Dangerous Revelations
by HawthornRose
Summary: Lines are being crossed and no-one's playing nice. Take one Draco Malfoy, then add Viktor Krum and pinch of manipulation. Stir in trouble, grate the nerves and fry. Throw from the frying pan into the fire & wait for secrets to bubble up. Best served with a storm in a teacup and a dash of lemon. This recipe is for the volatile and explosive relationship of Draco and Viktor. Read on.
1. Chapter 1

*****Hiya! Okay, this fic I am really excited about, it's about one of my absolute FAVORITE pairings, who are not at all shipped enough. This is actually quite compliant with the books, set in GoF, and I'm shipping (if you didn't already guess) Draco Malfoy and Viktor Krum. This story begins a little slowly (as you'll see in this chapter) but the pace picks up and builds as the story grows and events progress. Are you still reading? Even I've lost patience by now! ON WITH THE STORY! :D**

**P.S – Credit to the Queen for her wonderful setting and characters.*****

He watched as the giant ship rose from the whirlpool, it was truly magnificent in its size and structure, yet something about it looked oddly eerie. But to Draco, this was no detrimental effect.

The students filed out and the Headmasters exchanged pleasantries he did not care to hear. His keen eyes were searching among the students, trying to find one who was sure to be in their midst...

_There! _He walked forwards on the command of Karkaroff, a strong build, deep set eyes and thick black brow. The Hogwarts students whispered excitedly amongst themselves "It's Krum! … Look, that's Victor Krum... He's that Bulgaria Quiditch player, isn't he?..."

As the rest milled about, Draco beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to hurry up, knowing if he could get this right he would be set for the year. His father wouldn't let him live it down if the Durmstrang students sat at the Gryffindor table.

It seemed as if most of the Slytherin's had caught on to make space whilst the other tables were being rowdy. _Yes!_ He motioned to Krum, who decided to join him. Trying not to look to smug, he greeted the Seeker as he had been taught. Offered a seat, introduced himself then struck up conversation about a topic the subject was interested in but didn't constantly get asked about. Quiditch was off the list.

Krum looked around at the other tables, so Draco decided to pick up on this. "We're divided into four houses when we arrive – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin – depending on our values and attributes." He explained smoothly, inviting the thus inevitable question, which would draw his focus to their conversation.

"Vhat is this house zen?"

"Slytherin. We usually have ambition, determination to win and value our family and ancestors." That Slytherin revolved around purity of blood wasn't strictly true. Mostly, but not completely.

"The others?" Krum asked, slipping off his cloak and heavy furs. Draco couldn't help noticing how well built he was, despite still being shrouded in thick robes.

"Ravenclaw value intelligence, they aren't to bad. Gryffindor call themselves brave but usually just seek attention by acting reckless. Hufflepuff is for anyone else, so they're pretty _humble_." He added with a smirk.

Krum nodded, and looked up at the starry ceiling. "The ceiling is impressive" he noted.

Draco nodded once. "It's enchanted to look like the sky outside."

Just then Dumbledore called for their attention, waffling on about how he hoped the guests would enjoy their stay and something about the Tournament being opened at the end of the feast. The dishes filled with food, this time including French and what he thought were Russian dishes.

He added to his plate, then saw Victor eyeing a dish "Pelmeni?" Draco asked, offering it to him.

The Durmstrang nodded muttered a thanks. "You know these dishes?" He seemed, perhaps not impressed, but vaguely interested.

"Father has always catered to a variety of guests – Karkaroff has came to stay a few times; the two are good friends." But at this Krums face darkened and he turned to the Durmstrang students, slipping back into his native tongue, obviously unaware that Draco could himself speak and understand the language.

He watched Krum. He was essentially handsome; tall, muscular and dark... there was almost a predatorial nature within him.

A girl who must have been part Veela approached him. "Are you done with the Blancmange?" She asked smiling. He wasn't fooled; the Beuxbatons students were only seeking the attention of the others, and usually the friends of those who had been asked. He passed it to her wordlessly and watched her leave, attracting the envious glances of those around him, especially after her alluring thanks.

Their charm never seemed to affect him much. Anyway, his grandmother was part Veela and she was vicious enough to put anyone off their type.

Draco was about to turn his attention back to Viktor when their plates were wiped clean and Dumbledore began speaking. He introduced Crouch and Bagman, neither of whom Draco liked, and then called for the squib to bring out the casket. It wasn't shabby at least, and encrusted with jewels.

When the cup was brought out, however, it looked entirely unremarkable other than the fire dancing round its brim. Dumbledore carried on talking about the Tournament; Draco already knew its ins and outs having heard his father talking about it. The Age Line was an annoyance – Draco could have secured Bagmans high score, as the fool was in debt trouble and easily susceptible to bribes, and Karkaroffs, due to his fear of Dracos father.

Draco could have probably even gotten over the age injunction through a variety of ways, but the problem was Dumbledore and Moody. They would sanction another raid of his home in retaliation and probably try to expel him. It wasn't worth the risk.

Dumbledore finally finished speaking and they rose. Standing close, Draco realised him and Krum were almost the same height and, although muscular, he was still rather lean. "Are you sleeping in the castle or the ship?" He enquired.

"I vould like to stay in the castle, but Karkaroff..." He trailed off, the look of annoyance when Draco had mentioned Karkaroff resurfaced.

"He likes his _privacy_, right?" Draco asked, all implications of the word intoned. "Speak of the devil."

Krum nodded once. And sure enough, the Durmstrang headmaster was making his way to them, asking of Krum's well-being, had he eaten enough, would he like some mulled wine? Krum shrugged him off and slipped further back into the throng of students and beside Draco. He admired the blonde's ability holding a good conversation with**out** talking endlessly of Quiditch and trying to seduce a friendship with him through unabashed flattery.

There was also something about his immaculate appearance and well-spoken tongue which was attractively intriguing.

For some reason no-one seemed to be moving, despite being in a wide, crowded doorway. Draco swore under his breath.

"Vhat is the hold up?"

"Potter and Karkaroff." Both boys looked annoyed.

"What's the dorms in the ship like?" Draco asked.

"Zey are bearable. Ve could do with something more than the basics, but anything luxury is kept in Karkaroffs orvice." Then with another thought, "How is yours in the castle?"

Perfectly timed, Moody got the crowd moving, there was no time to describe them. As if it were a spontaneous decision, Draco told Krum to meet him at lunch and he would show him the Slytherin common room.

As the handsome quiditch star strode away, Draco couldn't help looking forward to catching him as a powerful ally.

.*.*.*.

*****Did you like it? This is just setting the scene, the next chapter is better (and longer), but I want 5 reviews before I upload it. And please, please please help me out with the name! I'm so stuck :/ Thanks for reading, and extra thanks if you leave a review :) *****


	2. Chapter 2

*****Okay, not many people have clicked on this story, so forget the five reviews – but MAHUSIVE thanks to Moonlight Lightning, your review was incredibly helpful, thank you so so much for the feedback :) It's been taken on board and the changes have been made, thanks a lot! **

**So this first half is still a bit scene setting, I couldn't resist not putting Warrington in it as he was mentioned in GoF as a contender and all that, but we see some progression in the second half. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Unfortunately, I am not J.K, not making money and don't own any of the characters *cries*. **

**I'll shut up now.**

**On with the story!*****

Never one to sleep in, Draco roused early and made his way through the common room.

Warrington, a seventh year, was the only other one up. "Are you entering, Warrington?" The question had a commanding tone behind it. Slytherin needed a few entries, whether or not they would be chosen, to maintain their house dignity this year.

"I... I didn't reckon-"

Draco raised an eyebrow but sat down; the combined actions pushed guilt and shame onto Warrington's shoulders without giving the impression Malfoy was above him or controlling him. An impartial judge.

The older boy changed tack "I didn't reckon it would look good for Slytherin to back out. Plus, one of my great-grandfathers was a champion." He jutted his chin forwards, carefully assessing the younger student. "I could put you're name in too, Malfoy. You bait?"

It was a dare, but Draco smirked. "If you want a second head then go for it." Incomprehension spread across Warringtons' face. "If you put two names in the cup then there's a charm that you grow another head. Too young and you get a beard. You'll see."

Warrington scowled and left to put his own name in the cup.

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote to his father. 6am, Saturday morning, every week of school. Details of what happened during the week; allegiances formed, broken or changed; results of exams, essays and other school-work. One spell he had learned off his own back. What he had learnt in school. Then an opinion somewhere within about how he hated mudbloods, or hated Dumbledore; anything which conformed to Salazar Slytherin or the Dark Lords ideals. This time, rather mildly, he noted that Durmstrang had chosen the best house to sit with, with a mocking comment on Potter and Weasley's faces when it was him who won Krum over rather than them. Told father to tip Karkaroff off about not being obvious about 'concealed matters' in front of Moody. The such like.

.*.*.*.

At lunch Draco entered the Great Hall. His eyes scanned for Krum, but could not find him. He scowled and turned back, his appetite lost.

"Draco" A deep voice purred. He spun round to see Viktor leaning against the wall behind him, concealed in their shadows. "Ve should eat some-ver else; I gave Karkaroff thee slip and he's searching vor me."

"Come here." Viktor stepped closer. He smelt musky, like woodsmoke and leather. Draco cast a Disillusionment Charm on him and then himself.

Viktor raised an eyebrow "Zat is advanced magic, you learn thees in class?"

Draco shook his head, then realised he couldn't be seen as easily. "No. I teach myself mostly or... or get some outside help. My father is... he teaches me when I'm at home, for instance." He didn't add how, or the pain involved in these lessons. He learned pretty fast now, at least. "We should go. A pair of disembodied voices... I _would _like to see the on a couple of first years faces at that but it might raise attention."

Viktor smiled slightly. He didn't often, but the Slytherin's humour was one he could appreciate. The familiar sarcastic, ironic or slightly twisted sense, but with actual humour rather than merely a snide comment.

"Will tha common room be busy?" He asked first.

Draco considered this for a moment. "We can find somewhere quieter if you like. Follow me... ah..." Draco stretched out an hand till he found Krum's chameleon-coloured arm. "Come on."

They saw three other Durmstrang students and Karkaroff pass in the corridors as they made their way to the concealed room. It was underground, by the dungeons, but the North Wing was rarely used and they encountered no-one in the nearby corridors. They finally reached a portrait of an old sleeping woman, from about knee to shoulder height. "Diarone" Draco said, and the woman opened her eyes, and spoke in a wavering, whisperish voice:

"_You heard me before,  
Yet you hear me again,  
Then I die,  
__Till you call me again"_

Draco pondered the riddle a moment. "An echo"

"_And you seek?_"

"The Concealed Room."

"_Very well._"

The portrait swung open. Draco and Viktor climbed inside. "Pirathere" Draco muttered at a torch attached to the wall – it and all the others alighted immediately – before shutting the portrait door behind him and locking it with a charm.

After all the lamps were lit, Draco sat down on one of the armchairs. This was a room only he knew of. Why he had taken Viktor here he wasn't sure – not even Crabbe or Goyle were trusted with the knowledge of its existence. He guessed he wanted to show off. Anyway, Krum was leaving at the end of the year so he couldn't follow him back there for too long.

"Who else comes here other than you?"

"You."

There was a pause. Krum settled himself down on a sofa opposite Draco and looked at him. In fact, it felt more as if he looked _into_ him, through those deep brown eyes with unfathomable depths and into the stormy grey ones.

"You trust me?" Krum inquired, his voice deep and low. Draco shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Before he could spin an ice cold reason, Krum's face broke into a smile. "I am glad to have you're trust, Draco Malfoy. It is nice."

"It's my honour."

Krum lounged back against the sofa, and fixed him with a relaxed gaze, his head tilted to the side. "You are kind to me, Draco, you make me laugh."

Slightly taken aback by Krum's forwardness, a pink tinge made it's way up Draco's neck. "It's nice to talk to some-one more mature than Crabbe and Goyle. It's nice to... to be able to place my trust in..."

"In a friend?"

It didn't sound like a chess move. It didn't sound like an offer of allegiance, motivated by cold hard logic. It sounded... like friendship. Draco sat up, a slow smile crept onto his face. It wasn't smug. It wasn't malicious glee.

It was happiness. How odd.

"In a friend," he repeated.

.

They talked for awhile, exchanging stories, school and castle secrets, heritage and inheritance. It was pleasant to discuss pure-blood issues with some-one who wasn't immediately effective in them or was going to pass on information. Interesting, too, to hear of the differences between cultures – vices of arranged marriage, name-taking, bloodline inheritance and the raising and creating of an heir.

Draco complained in depth of the injustice of having to marry Pansy Parkinson; with her being the furthest related, most pure-blooded witch in his decade.

"Why not Zanibi? He must be more distant and yet eez family tree eez older zan mine?"

Draco almost choked on his drink at that point "Zanibi!? Viktor he's a _boy!_!"

Krum shrugged. "Well if you are not ento zat type zen..." He trailed off in an off-handish matter, inspecting his Elfen wine

Draco cleared his throat a little, blushing. How undignified. "Viktor – that would be illegal." He said quietly. "Of course... of course I wouldn't pair up with Zanibi. I'd be disowned."

There was a long pause. "Ah."

*****Although I love the idea of their wizarding culture being open and accepting to gay and bisexual people, it's really old-fashioned and prejudiced, so I don't think they would be. Ah well, what did you think of this chapter? Anything you liked, disliked or would change? Reviews are really, really appreciated (I smile like an idiot whenever I get one. Seriously.) Thanks for reading, stay tuned! :) *****


	3. Chapter 3

*****THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS! Really made me smile, Siempre, Slytherin luver, Romulus Black and the two anonymous people – thanks a bunch :D So, yes, here is the next chapter to our story, I hope you like it :)**

They parted soon after. Viktor had to see Karkaroff again and Draco decided to take his mind off matters to push (bully) more eligible Slitherins to enter. He would have loved to have entered with his new friend; it would be a chance to prove himself, a challenge without guilt on his conscience, an opportunity to compete against others without all of the injury and guilt his father (mis)took as acceptable.

He came down for the Halloween feast and greeted Viktor. It was obvious he would be the Durmstrang champion. The rest weren't quite as clear, but it was only a short time before a decision was made.

The feast ended, Dumbledore took centre stage and read out Viktor Krum for Durmstrang, who loped off with his steady panther stride, no interest in the cheering or applause.

Fleur Delacour was the Beauxbatons champion, then Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. Shame it wasn't a Slytherin, but Draco knew Diggory faintly; he wasn't too bad. In fact, he was perhaps the best choice for Hogwarts; Draco would try to ensure he had the Slytherins support.

Suddenly he was pulled out of his trail of thought by the abrupt silence – he looked up. The cup had turned red again and a piece of parchment shot into the air. Dumbledore caught it, read it, and held them in suspense

"_Harry Potter"_

Draco couldn't believe his ears. _How dare he! _He was livid. How dare Potter take the limelight again, seek attention for so called brave acts he would perform, play the Gryffindor Hero?

A small part of his mind told him that, by the shocked look on Potters face, _he_ had no idea he was about to compete and probably didn't enter himself. But Draco promptly ignored this slight bit of wisdom; he was too beside himself with rage.

He was in half a mind to revisit the Concealed Room, but Crabbe, Goyle and Nott caught him into a conversation and there was no way he could escape without seeming suspicious.

Draco didn't expect to see Viktor on Sunday – he was probably celebrating or talking through tactics and ideas with Karkaroff and the other Durmstrang students. So it was a pleasant surprise when, in the late afternoon, he saw him prowling the school grounds.

"Viktor" He called

The quiditch star paused for a moment, glancing up to see the young aristocrat walking towards him. Anyone else would have annoyed him, but for some reason he didn't feel angered at this handsome boy taking his present solitude. "Draco," he replied. "It is good to see you."

"It's -" Draco paused, assessing the situation, "Sorry, were you-" His voice caught a in his throat, _Since when did a Malfoy apologise? _"Were you wanting to be left alone for now?" He scowled inwardly at the poorly phrased question. His speech was atrocious.

"I - Как вы говорите, что -"

-(how do you say it?)-

"Если вы предпочитаете говорить на родном языке, то мы можем говорить на русском языке"

-(If you would rather talk in your mother tongue then we can speak in Russian")-

**(A/N: I will write what they're saying in English, but they're still talking in Russian)**

Viktor looked surprised, "I didn't know you could speak Russian."

"Yes, well, I've always had a knack for languages. My grandmother on my fathers side was Russian so she taught me, and my mother taught me French and Dutch."

"Huh. I only began learning English a few years ago, it is still very basic."

"It's good enough. You speak more when in your mother tongue." _Obviously. Why hadn't he thought of it last night?_

"I speak more around you."

"Really?" Dracos gut gave a funny little lurch, and the corner of his lip twitched upwards a little

"I don't talk to others much. My father, perhaps, and my little brother."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to talk to others. It would be a waste of words and energy."

At this Draco laughed, "I know what you mean."

"You do seem to understand me well, Draco."

There was a silence. "We are quite alike, in some respects." he replied, quietly. He glanced around, no-one was about. He was meant to show the _Hogwarts _champion the dragons, gain his loyalty and become allies. It was imperative. But... "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

Krum eyed him curiously "I would like nothing better."

They headed off into the Forbidden Forest, waving away it's adjective. About half an hour in there was the sound of a roar.

"What was that?" Krum asked, pulling his wand out. Draco took a deep breath and turned to him, placing a hand upon his chest to halt him. "That," He explained, "Is the noise of the first task. Dragons."

Krum blinked, and pocketed his wand. "Why are you telling me this? Don't you want _your_ school to win?"

Draco shrugged, uneasy. His father would murder him. "We're friends, aren't we?" He cursed himself for not sounding so pathetically unsure, but Krum smiled. "Yes. Yes, we are."

Draco suddenly became very aware of their close proximity. He could smell the dark musky smell of Viktor Krum, his lean body merely inches from his own, dark brown eyes, lips slightly parted... "We shouldn't be caught out here." He muttered, looking away. _What was wrong with him?_ Viktor didn't move, but Draco refused to meet his gaze. They stood there in tense silence. "I'm going." He took a step back "Are you coming?"

Silence. Draco turned, he met Viktors deep eyes, and a dark smile flashed across the older boys' face. For a moment... "Yes." The atmosphere was broken, (again) "I'm coming."

Draco sighed. Bet whether it was in relief or disappointment, he would never quite know.

They reached the edge of the woods. "Shall you meet me in the room I showed you last night, perhaps some time tomorrow evening?"

That rare smile glinted across Viktors' lips again. "Of course."

*****Forgive me for such short chapters, hopefully I can make it up to you by posting regularly. Did you like it? Was there anything that could be changed or improved? Reviews are really, really, really appreciated, and thanks for reading :) **

**-HaRo xxx*****


	4. Chapter 4

*****I stayed up WAY to late to finish this off. I'd already written it but decided that, due to the wonderful reviews _(and a massive thanks to Wings of Spring, Romulus Black, Siempre, Slytherin Lover and you other annomynus people, you guys really made my day) _I would write a bit more... it ended up doubling in length. Hope you enjoy it, may have to tweak it later but I'l tell you of any major changes if I do. Thanks!*****

From then on the day went achingly slow, he didn't even have Quiditch practice to take his mind off things anymore. Instead he and Nott worked on a few badges, enchanting them to say in gleaming letters "Support Cedric Diggory." Then, out of spite, it changed to "Support Cedric Diggory – The Real Hogwarts Champion!".

Pansy walked over and suggested they added a dragon eating Potter, till Draco pointed out that it would look suspicious when the first task came. It was possibly the worst-kept secret, but that didn't mean the teachers had to know. Instead they added a "Potter Stinks!" in bright green writing when some-one pressed it.

Draco would have pointed out it was now more of an anti-Potter campaign than a pro-Diggory one, but decided very strongly against it. Pansy caught him doodling Potter playing Quiditch last year, and he'd only just gotten away by charming the drawing so he was struck by lightning, thanks to the atrocious weather, and sending it to the boy as a cruel joke. Potter was only a slight pre-occupation, Malfoy's always desired the most impossible, that was simply his nature.

Krum, though... Krum was _more. _Krum did, of course, posses wealth and fame – admirable qualities in any purebloods' eyes. But there was something more to him, some substance which kept Draco enthralled and enchanted, long into that night...

.*.*.*.

Draco made ready the Concealed Room, this time lighting a fire in the grate, re-arranging the furniture a little, before waiting outside the portrait for Viktor. He lent against the wall, eyes half closed, waiting. The clock ticked by, and Draco's patience wore thin. It was not an often occurrence that somebody would hold a Malfoy up, but he could make an exception when... well actually this was the first time he ever had.

Finally Viktor finally came loping around the corner with his slow panther stride. "Draco," he purred, "You have not been vaiting here long, I do trust?"

Draco blinked and straightened himself, smoothing the creases from his robes "No, not at all." He lied, quickly, feeling Krums gaze a moment to long on the path his hands made down his torso.

Swallowing, he turned back to Diarone, who gave him another riddle.

"_Red as blood and sweet as wine. A hard hard heart within flesh sublime. "_

_One of us? _Viktor snickered to himself, _Perish the thought! _

Draco frowned a moment, biting a nail. It took him a moment, before understanding dawned. Viktor watched his eyes light up, and cocked an ear, half interested. "A cherry," Draco replied.

"_And you require?"_

"The Concealed Room."

The portrait swung open and the two hurried inside, closing the secret door lest some-one come round the corner.

The once roaring fire was now reduced to but glowing embers; Draco blushed as it made obvious that he had, in fact, been waiting for now over two hours. With a flick of his wand the fire sprung to life again, but he didn't meet Viktors eyes.

They sat down in opposite armchairs, Draco rubbed his hands together, trying to get some feeling back into them – the corridor had been freezing. "You are cold?" Viktor enquired. He nodded, and, swift as a snitch, Viktor leant forwards to take his hands in his. They were warm, calloused by the weather, Quiditch and duels, but at that moment every sensation reduced to the contact between their hands. "That is my fault. You should never trust a Krum to be on the proper time." Draco remained very still, taken by the Durmstrang's physicalcality. He had before always remained very reserved, had hated anyone to come into his personal space. But today something was afoot, he wanted to freeze time and keep them like this forever. His breath was shallow, and it was ridiculous because Viktor was only warming his hands up, for mercies sake, but he swore to never forget his touch. It sent a volt up his spine and had fried his brain for sure.

Viktor stopped, then looked into his eyes. A devious grin flashed across his lips, his eyes sparked with some mischief Draco recognised only from the day before. He withdrew, and Draco sat back in his seat, suddenly relieved to move back.

They talked for a while, exchanging more intimate stories from their childhood and anecdotes of school and friends. It was going well, until Viktor got that gleam in his eyes again, the one that Draco's heart nearly stopped at, and it spelt caution for the recipent. Viktor leaned in, and directly looked into his eyes with that unnerving ability of his. Draco felt hot and cold all over at the same time. He to anticipate the next step. He didn't. "You said being of... _different persuasions_... was illeagal, Draco -"

Draco froze, his heart suddenly clenching. "Not quite," He cut in, "It's not illegal to _be... _queer," Anger flashed across Viktors face and Draco's heart dropped – he must disagree with this law. "Just to, y'know, act on it." His heart seemed to have forgotten it's rhythm and kept missing beats, then playing them double time at it's own volition.

"Not illegal to be gay." A harsh sneer turned up the corner of his lip, "Just to be a gay person."

"Well it's, I mean, it's wrong, isn't it?" Viktor narrowed his eyes, and Draco felt cornered, he didn't know what to say or which way to turn the conversation. He'd never been so socially disoreintated and Viktor was on dangerous territory. "People may turn a blind eye, here and there." He continued, "I know of a few have taken male lovers, as some take a Mistress." His voice was to high and to fast, he took a deep breath discreetly, berating himslef for looking like such a fool.

"Would you ever-"

"What's it like in Russia?" Draco cut across, "Do they object or..."

"We are far more liberal than you British. Men shall love men if they choose, same for women, and they should be proud lovers. We do not shirk away. There is not any problem in my country." He sounded proud and impassioned, but Draco couldn't place where the undercurrent of bitterness was directed.

"Sounds nice," He muttered, under his breath.

Viktor leant back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but Draco didn't know if he'd heard him or not. "Has your family ever taken that kind of lover?" The Durmstrang asked.

"Viktor!" Draco stood up, angered, "Draw the line, for Salazar's sake! I'd appreciate you to not sully my family's name." Viktor fell quiet, head leant against the back and legs slightly spread, totally at ease. He didn't smile, but Draco could tell by the amused look in his mahogany dark eyes that he knew he'd got to him.

Draco turned to the fire, an elbow resting on the mantelpiece and he stared into the flames. He had never doubted the laws which matched his family values, there was no need. He was aware of his... _disposition_, but it was no problem. No respectable pureblood married for love, that came afterwards, and if not then it was no loss. Family, Purity and Respect (or Dignity, merely a matter of wording), were the highest values within a household.

But did he even want that? Did it matter? But how would he ever be tender,when he could not express it to who he wanted? He couldn't act on these feelings, he could never honestly reciprocate any love directed at him openly. Not truthfully, anyway. Unless he could trust a person, trust them with his personal dark secret, to never reveal him... them...

A frown furrowed his brow as he stared at the flickering fire, when Viktor's strong hands rested on his waist.

Draco froze.

He took in a shaking breath, turning carefully to face the deep, dark eyes that made his own breath shallow and his heart shake behind his ribs. The eyes probed into his, looking for something, and Draco tried to explain that he couldn't do this, it wasn't right, it wasn't allowed.

One hand moved slowly up the side of his body to his shoulder, encircled the back of his neck... "Vik, I cant-" Viktor placed one finger to his lips, silencing him. "Your father isn't here." He murmured, quietly. And at that, all the tension in Draco's body rolled off, and he could feel his finger stroked down Dracos chin and along his jaw, before cupping his face in one hand. The other encircled round his waist, and dark, rich full lips touched briefly to his, before pressing down as Draco's eyes fluttered shut.

They kissed, and time meant nothing, and rules meant nothing, etiquette, dignity, laws... it all faded for nothing as Viktors dark wine lips encouraged Draco's cool, fine ones open and his tongue slid inside, arms pulling him tighter to his body. Viktors hand slid up the back of his neck and knotted in his hair, then slid down his spine... He raised his head for air and Draco leant his head against the Bulgarian players chest, star-glazed eyes unseeing...

*****Awww... did you like it? Was this to early, to angsty, not enough suspense? Or did you think it was fine? May amend the homosexuality being illegal thing, have to see. Thanks for reading, and remember to favorite, follow and/or review if you can. Stay tuned, more next week. The rating might go up a little. There's cracks in the already unsteady relationship and mentions of child abuse.*****


	5. Chapter 5

*****First of all, big thanks to VM Reiche for reviewing, I'm glad you like it :) **

**Secondly, I've put the rating up for discussion of child abuse and a little swearing, hope that's okay with everyone. Tell me if it's not, and also please let me know if you want a bit of smut sometime or not, minding that it will put the rating up to an M. I'm happy to, but don't want to drive anyone off because they're sticking to T and below. **

**Finally, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's about the progression – or otherwise – of their relationship, and we delve a little more into the characters. Well that kind of happens every chapter but y'know. Enjoy!*****

Viktor pulled Draco onto the couch, and the blond sprawled his legs across his lap, leaning against the opposite arm of the sofa. "Draco," He purred, "Forget thee tournament. I came joint first. Who cares? I have you." Draco immediately stopped his ranting about Potter cheating in the first task that day, as Viktor changed positions. He slipped out from under Draco's legs swiftly, and placed his toughened hands on the Slytherin's chest. "We should celebrate." Not waiting for a response, his lips came down heavy on Draco's with passion. As they kissed, his hands slid over Draco's body, down his chest, his waist, his thighs... then came up and grabbed the top buttons of his robe, pulling them undone.

"Vik don-"

His pale flesh exposed, Viktor paused. He looked up at Draco in confusion. There were numerous pale scar lines ripped across his chest and stomach, as if he had been cursed, or whipped...

"Get off me." His voice shook. Viktor pulled away as the blond rose, refastening the buttons and turning away from him. "I won't talk about it."

"Who did this to you?"

"No-one. It is none of you business, Krum." The boy spat.

"I'll make it my business." Viktor threatened, slipping back into his native tongue. Draco whipped round and he was faced with the affronting end of a wand.

"No. You won't."

They stood at a stand point for a few moments. "Draco. I mean you no harm." The aristocrats wand clattered to the ground and he bowed his head, burying his hands in his face. Viktor steered him firmly towards the armchair and sat him down, before kneeling in front of him. Slowly, he took Draco's hands into his own and away from his face. Draco looked into his eyes, pleadingly. "Who did this?" He asked again, softly. Draco did not answer him, only looked away in shame. The cogs whirred in Viktors mind, and then it hit him. Of course. Suddenly, it was blindingly obvious as to why Draco had such fear of his father. An abundance of love and respect, of course, but overwhelming fear to compliment it. "You're father?" Draco said nothing, he didn't need to. "Can you seek no help for your wounds?"

"Not without revealing myself."

"You go to great lengths to protect your family. Can you not have the power to stop him?"

"He is my father, Viktor. Sometimes, it's just the way it is. Just... I won't betray them, and I do not defy them. That is all that needs to be said."

"Draco..."

"We are celebrating." Draco cut in cut in

Viktor frowned, but it didn't last long as the Slytherin seduced their relationship further with his treacherous hands and lips...

.*.*.*.

"The Yule Ball is approaching," Viktor noted

"I am aware of that."

"I need a dance partner. It is required of all Champions."

"I know." Came the terse reply. "I'm sure you can get any girl you want."

"I don't want any _girl_, Draco! I want you!" He slammed his palms against the blonds chest in frustration, his lover flew backwards and hit the floor hard, his arms just catching the armchair to break his fall.

They stared at each other in a shocked silence.

"Shit, Draco I-"

"Save your breath, Krum." Draco snapped. He righted himself and sneered at the Bulgarian Quiditch player, "So much of a _friend_ you are." He resented the word, he resented Krum, he resented his father. Perhaps, most of all, he resented his own cowardice, but would never admit it.

Visions kept flickering along the back of his eyelids, his father moving against him in just the same way before he bore down on him with his cane, or his curses. Viktor had just brung what had been safely locked up at home into his own private sanctuary at the school. Draco swept out of the room, embittered.

.*.*.*.

Unfortunately, in his opinion at least, Draco received an owl the next morning from his father, informing him Krum was invited to the Manor, should he wish to come, for the Christmas holidays after the Yule Ball.

Draco knew very well he could not turn to his father and refuse to invite him on honest ground, so he gritted his teeth and decided to look for the Durmstrang that afternoon.

He had seen him in the library a number of times, which was made obvious by the number of squealing fan-girls who followed him everywhere making a nuisance. He stalked along the aisle's of books, until he heard his voice. He was talking to Granger, and Draco paused to listen.

.*.*.*.

It was, in all essence, vengeance to Draco that he, Viktor, was going to take someone to the ball someone who was everything Draco wasn't – a female, muggleborn Gryffindor, and best friends with Potter. It was a joke, and he almost felt sorry for the wench whom he was deceiving; it was unlikely she had ever had any of that kind of attention before, and was immediately besotted.

Their conversation was already boring him, and he longed for Draco. He hadn't seen his secret lover all week, and he was, admittedly, an impatient and possessive boyfriend. Not that they were officially dating, though.

He told her he had been had been looking for her, and apologised for coming into the library so much. He explained he had wanted to talk to her, but was too embarrassed to do so in front of others.

As he talked he laid his accent on heavily and using more broken English than he strictly needed too. It was a clever trick he had picked up long ago to get out of tiresome conversations. He didn't need to impress her, after all.

The girl – Hermione, he kept reminding himself – blinked at him in astonishment, before quickly recomposing her face to a more flattered expression. "I didn't notice," She said smoothly. But the slight breathlessness of her voice gave her deceit away. He'd seen her watching him from behind the books before.

"Vould 'ou accomany me to za Ball, Herm-oh-ninny?" He asked.

In the back of his mind, he registered her affirmative. But his attention was completely diverted. At the end of the aisle, stood the daunting figure of his own Draco Malfoy. And he suddenly grasped why people trod lightly around Draco Malfoy. His eyes were the colour of a tempest, his mouth twisted into a cruel grimace, and he radiated fury from every pore. He held himself upright, but it could have been the crouch of a predator.

Viktor stood up, "I vill not hold 'ou longer," He kissed her hand and left abruptly, as he brushed passed Draco their bodies turned inwards slightly, as if they would circle each other in a fight, and a look was shared between them. Draco was murderous, and Viktor conveyed to him a simple message he knew Draco understood. _You got what you asked for._

**_***_Did you like it? I didn't want them to be some kind of perfect pair, or particularly nice, because – let's be honest, they're not. Reviews are really, really appreciated, especially feedback with points to improve, but anything is really wonderful. Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up next Sunday – will they get back together or will there be more trouble? Remember to tell me whether you want smut or not, and Stay Tuned! :) *****


	6. Chapter 6

***** Hi everyone! Here's the next chapter, hope you like it!*****

_Dear Son,_

I am still waiting for a reply as to whether Mr. Krum will be attending us for the Christmas period. He is very welcome to do as he wishes, but his presence at the Gala Ball has also been requested by Stanislav Marden. We hope for your reply soon,

Lucius  
  
Draco scowled and crumpled the letter in his hand before throwing it into the fire. Trust Marden to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but being one of the strongest aristocrats in Russia allowed him privileges that couldn't be begrudged. Draco wondered idly who else the lord had ordered to his family's ball.

He felt guilty for not having replied, but hadn't been able to bring himself to ask Viktor, nor to disappoint his father. Perhaps Marden had in fact given him a good excuse; not ignoring the powerful man's request would be understandable. He would have to talk to Viktor, but he hated the way his stomach did little back-flips at the prospect. Malfoy's had far more dignity than to get excited over meeting someone like him. Gathering himself together, Draco headed to the ship, where Krum most likely was.

He made his way outside, there was still a layer of mist on the ground, dew settling on thinning grass. He looked out over the lake, to see a figure standing by the ship with only swimming shorts on – _surely not? _The broad frame was unmistakable as Viktor Krum, but before Draco could call out to him he bent his knees, arms above his head and dove in to the icy depths of the lake. It must have been freezing, but half a minute later, enough time to worry the Slytherin, he re-emerged. Draco stood there, simply watching Krum swim, the graceful way his arms cut through the water and his lean muscles rippled. He swam for a while, before noticing Draco. The young aristocrat was unsure as to whether his presence would be welcomed or seen as an intrusion, but Viktor swam up to him immediately, pulling himself out of the water and onto the bank.

Draco immediately cast a heating charm around the two of them, and Viktor nodded in appreciation. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "I like to svim," He stated, simply.

"You have been invited to the Malfoy Gala Ball by my father and Stanislav Marden." Draco's tailored formal voice betrayed no emotion.

Viktor's face darkened. "I vill not go."

Draco tried not to gape, but his demeanour was overcome by his astonishment. "But _Marden_ has asked for you. You can't just _not go._"

"Vatch me." Viktor turned around to dive back into the lake, but Draco caught his arm.

"Please." He asked, desperately. "It is a purely formal occasion, if you don't want to stay for the week that's fine. Just..." He looked away. He would disappoint his father so badly if Viktor declined, it would not come without punishment.

Looking up again, they held each others gazes. "Von condition," Viktor finally settled on.

"Name it."

A sly smile slipped onto his dark wine lips. "Dance vith me at the Yule Ball."

"What!?"

"That is my condition. I vill not be svayed."

"Viktor I – you know that's – that's just _preposterous! _I can't, don't you get that? Word will get back to my father and he will-"

"That is my condition. I vill not force you, but it is my price." Draco huffed, angry to have been backed into such an impossible corner. "You vill find a vay, Draco Malvoy." His stomach gave a very strange jolt when Viktor said his name, and the older boy put two fingers under his chin, making him look at him. "I trust you, you are clever enough."

Suddenly, Draco was very, very aware of their close proximity. In fact, he was suddenly aware of _everything _that was Viktor – his senses overpowered with his smell, his body so close, lips almost touching... he tilted his head up, searching the dark mahogany eyes...

and was left staring at the sky. All that was left were ripples where Krum had disappeared into the murky depths of the Black Lake.

.*.*.*.

Draco paced the common-room in agitation. It was late, and he was irritable. If Viktor didn't come to the ball, not only would he have his father to deal with, but his father would have Marden to deal with, and their prestige would be severely damaged. Which would only worsen his fathers notorious temper...

But if Draco danced with Viktor at the Yule Ball, his own standing would be totally ruined, and should word get back to his father...

Wait.

Viktor had asked him todance. He hadn't specified how long, or when, or how. Perhaps it could be accomplished, somehow, just one dance in the latest hours, when the rest were to drunk from dancing and kissing to notice. In fact –_yes!– _what if Draco didn't look like Draco at all?

He could get some Polyjuice Potion perhaps? No, to risky, what if the person returned?

Human transfiguration, he knew Krum was exceptionally good at it – could that be an answer? It was risky, though, not to mention incredibly tricky to pull off well. He needed something he was good at, something which they could easily use as a disguise...

_Of course! _Why hadn't he thought of it before? The Disillusionment charm – if they only danced once, late into the night, no-one would notice strange shadows or someone bumping into them in the sway of people. They could be invisible, almost, he could keep his side of the bargain, and Viktor would have to come to their Ball, nobody would know of their secret affair – it was perfect!

He was about to grab a quill and write to his father, when the memory of that awful scene in the library flashed through his mind. Viktor had asked that pathetic mudblood Granger to the Ball – _Granger! _What if she spent all night with him, if she wouldn't leave, he couldn't exactly ask to take over! Or, even worse, what if Viktor expected him to dance the whole night, or if he didn't want to be hidden?

Tough, Draco decided. He wouldn't know till the last minute, he would be less likely to object then. And Granger could be confounded, or hexed, which would be rather amusing. As long as he could hold the charm up – and it shouldn't be to much of an effort – the plan should proceed. A Malfoy always got his way.

.*.*.*.

"Pansy."

"Yes Draco?" The pug-faced girl simpered,

"As I presume you will be attending the ball with me, my mother wants to see you Sunday noon." She nodded, and he could see the greedy gleam in her eyes. Her family had done incredibly well to land her with him, their wealth did not equate to half of the Malfoy's. It was thus Pansy's soul job at Hogwarts to ensure Draco did not protest enough that they pulled out of the deal. "Follow her advise, and don't bother buying a yourself a dress. It's been covered."

She tried to suppress a grin, knowing the Malfoy's would accept only the finest quality, she would be one of the best dressed at the Yule Ball.

"What?" Theodore Nott leaned over the breakfast table, furious, "Pansy, I asked you out ages ago and you said yes!"

Pansy glanced at Draco, who rolled his eyes. She clutched his arm before turning back to Theo. "Sorry, Theo, I'm going with Draco now."

"There's only gonna be a bunch of trolls left!"

"You probably should have known of this arrangement, Theo." Draco pointed out. He schooled his features to something more sympathetic, it wouldn't do to annoy his fellow house-mates. "I'm sure there's a few Beuxbatons left over, or at least ones who'll take you over whatever they've got at the moment." Theo nodded glumly, still a little anger remained on his frown. Draco sniggered, changing the topic, "Did you hear what Weasley did last night?"

"No?"

"He tried to ask Fleur Delacour out." There was a shocked silence before they erupted into laughter, turning around to look at the redhead on the other side of the hall. "You should have seen her face!"

The air cleared, and Draco tried hard not to think about the end of the Ball, his stomach tightened every time he did, when he would surely have to fulfil his side of the bargain.

He profoundly hoped nothing would go wrong...

.*.*.*.

**Will anything go wrong? Not even I know yet! Next time – how the Yule Ball goes, and the proceeding consequences after it. Please, please review, makes me so happy and it's great to know what people think of this. Thanks for reading! :) **

**P.S – I've done something terrible. It's horrendous. I FORGOT THE FERRET SCENE! Before the final upload, I'm gonna give the whole thing a little re-edit and tidy up the corners, so could really do with a beta-reader. If you are one, or know anyone, who would be happy to help me with this, please let me know – either review or PM would be great. Thanks a lot, sorry for the plot-holes!*****


	7. Chapter 7

*****HELP! I HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THE STORY AND DRACO WON'T GIVE THE REIGNS BACK! Viktor keeps egging him on too, which isn't helping. I seriously did not plan this chapter the way it turned out to be. Draco won't shut up about everyone's clothes, and then does something a little drastic. Events have spiralled out of control, watch out, because I've had to put the rating up to an M. I don't know how this happened, but I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long to upload as well, I'm supposed to be revising 3 hours a night until the 6th of June (I've hardly done any so far and I'm awful at it!) but I'll try to update every three weeks at least. To make it up to you, this chapter is a lot longer and a lot more exciting I reckon compared to it's predecessors. Blame Draco. Hope you like it, please fave, follow or review! :)**

** Windham – thanks, I'm glad you enjoy them :) drop me a PM if you're able to beta at some point and still want to, that would be really nice, thanks :)**

**P.S. - Draco's a right bitch at the start, this is not how to treat a lady. Ever. And Viktor... I am not commending their actions in any way. Cheers :)**

.*.*.*.

Draco smoothed back his hair once more, and brushed off invisible dust from his shoulders. His dress robes were well-made, a rich black with a high collar and tailored to fit. His cuff links were in place with the Malfoy family crest, and his dragon-hide boots were impeccably stylish. He would have preferred a green or silver dress-set, but the fashion of the day called for black, and this particular robe set was made specifically for such an event.

He stepped out of the dorms with Crabbe and Goyle by his shoulders and waited for Pansy to emerge. Neither of the other two had found partners, but Draco suspected neither really wanted to dance. "Are you to going together or something?" He sneered at them, "Do you actually _want_ to look queer?" they both shook their heads, laughed dully and shuffled their feet a little. They were easy company to keep, and worth the little effort it took to keep them, thanks to their intimidating presence. Draco knew, really, neither could fight for toffee, but as long as they looked frightening enough nobody else needed to know.

A few minutes later Pansy stepped out. Draco gave her the once-over, and glared.

"Do you like the dress?" Pansy asked happily, sighing and swishing it a little. She twirled around, talking fast "When you're mother brought it out I couldn't believe it, give her my greatest thanks, the fit is so amazing I don't know how she-"

"Pansy."

She stopped mid-sentence. "Yes, Draco?" She asked, rather more timidly

"What the hell are you wearing and where is the dress that my mother chose for you?" She was wearing a shocking pink frilly dress, which was inelegant, promiscuous and would clash horribly with his own outfit. She was revolting and repulsive.

Her eyes darted to the door and back, and then to the clock on the mantelpiece. Her bottom lip trembled a little. "Well, Draco, it's just – I mean-" He raised an eyebrow "Look, when you're mother took the measurements it was a while ago and, well, it's just that-" she went bright red and stared at the floor, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Draco hoped she didn't cry, because if her make-up was ruined she would look a damn sight uglier. "Well, it doesn't quite fit anymore." She blinked away a few tears.

"You mean you stuffed yourself with cake and are now to fat." He snapped, angrily. She looked like he'd just slapped her, and he was very tempted to do so. Usually he was more tolerant, but his nerves were severely frayed with the prospect of his dance with Krum and he had no patience for incompetence. Tears were now welling at the corner of her eyes, which would not be a good look. "Stop crying and I'll spare you the embarrassment of telling my parents, alright?"

"But I'll be going to yours tomorrow and they'll realise!"

Draco groaned in frustration. "Look, I've got Quentin's Cue somewhere, take that and you'll run a fever for five days – stay at home, I'll tell them you're poorly and simply cannot attend." She nodded miserably. "Stop crying Pansy. The dress fits you well," he lied, "Right Crabbe, Goyle?" The two nodded. "Good. Hurry up then." He offered her his arm and they moved into the annex of the common room, where Draco needed to make sure the love potion he had planted on Scarlet Pierce had worked. Sure enough, Theodore Nott was looking extremely pleased to have the pretty girl on his arm, and Draco's suspicion that he had a crush on her was confirmed. The potion would wear off in a couple of days and she would leave him heartbroken, but Draco wouldn't be blamed for stealing his prom date and leaving him with someone undesirable, and that was all that mattered.

As they got to the entrance hall he spotted Potter and Weasley among the throng of students, which was amusing to say the least. They had both pulled separate Patil twins, which in itself pulled up several lewd jokes. Potters' dress robes hung badly on him, and he still looked dorky and out of place, but Weasley looked hysterical. His robes looked like something from fifty years ago that had been made out of a pair of old curtains, with frills and threads, not to mention a couple of unseemly stains. It was no wonder his date looked upset. Draco would have teased him for it, but his stomach had clenched into awful knots and he wanted to prove he could conduct himself well in such formal situations. Making a scene wouldn't do.

They made their way slowly to the Great Hall, eyes slipping over or casually appraising the various student attire, most were well dressed, others obviously didn't understand the ease to distinguish what was and what was not designer, and how few could get away without wearing it. There was only one girl he'd glimpsed so far who was part of that few. Her dress wasn't from any designer he recognised, but the cut was good and she looked exquisite from all he'd seen.

Everyone was finally arranged in a large circle, the music began and the four champions entered. As Draco watched, he suddenly felt as if he had been doused in a bucket of cold water. His heart plummeted and he tasted bile in his mouth. Swallowing hard, he berated himself for not mentally preparing himself for this. Krum was holding the mudblood's hand, and then she was in his arms, and they were dancing and twirling around the floor, she was too close to him and he held her too tightly. Draco had known envy, had known jealousy, hatred, anger – all such emotions, yes. But never like this. It was like a snake had reared it's head and sunk it's fangs into him, releasing the venom of such emotions.

The salt in the wound was when he realised she had been the very one he had admired, she was exquisitely beautiful and showed him up for bringing Pansy. He hated her for it. In fact, he decided, she was actually remarkably ugly, and he was sure her dress was muggle-made, which was simply despicable. Neither was she the best dancer, and without Viktor to guide her she would have already have fallen flat on her face twice. He wanted to look away desperately, but suddenly found he couldn't. He could feel an irrational fear that if he turned away Viktor might suddenly do something awful like... kiss her. _What if he kisses her!? He wouldn't dare!_ Slowly, more people joined the dance floor, and couples began swirling around.

He couldn't keep his eyes on Viktor any longer, so grabbed Pansy and pulled her into position. They too fell into the dance, and Draco tried to channel everything into it, tried to forget what he had seen, just concentrate on the music and the rhythm his feet stepped out. He was holding Pansy too tightly and could see her wincing, but didn't care. It would put her in place. "Draco, slow down," she hissed, as he spun her in. He glared at her, but complied. He didn't want to draw attention. In fact, he wanted to slip away. The whole scene was making him sick and he couldn't concentrate. All the smiling faces, he would love to put a curse on them. "Draco," Pansy hissed again, "You look like you're going to murder someone, please just..." She winced again as he dug his nails into her arm, but carried on, "Compose yourself, dear." He allowed himself one more glare at him, but knew she was right. He pulled his face into a supercilious smirk, one which conveyed honour and ease.

The music drew to an end and the lighting changed Professor Flitwick walked out from a smoke screen with a microphone in hand, introducing a band 'who needed no introduction'. The smoke cleared to reveal four men, and people started screaming and racing to the front of the stage. It was the Weird Sisters, a popular band that Draco suddenly wished he knew more about than old pureblood composers of ballroom music.

"Alright Hogwarts!" The lead singer shouted "Are you ready for some _real_ music!?" The crowd screamed hysterically, and the music started. He was playing a triple necked guitar, he had ragged hair which reached his shoulders and eye make-up on, another member of the band wore black eye make up all around one of his eyes so it artfully trickled down his face. The drummer wore a leopard print cardigan which hugged his muscular frame, and they were all frightfully different from anyone Draco had ever seen.

Everyone started jumping around and screaming, obviously incredibly excited, even Pansy. "I'm going to get drinks." He muttered to her.

Pansy stared at him, "What? No, come on Draco, dance with me – this song's great!"

"I'll be back in five minutes."

She sighed and he slipped through the throng of students to the drinks table. He had never really listened to popular music, his father had called it common filth and he swore never to listen to the stuff, but looking around everybody seemed to be enjoying the music. It was fun, it was weird, it was a little edgy and it was fast. The lyrics made no sense – _dance like a Hippogriff? _- but that somehow made the song better, more exciting. Some of the notes were flat but _who cared?_ Everyone was jumping up and down, reaching out to touch them, screaming and... smiling.

_I've totally fucked up, _Draco realised.

The song drew to an end and Viktor appeared by his side, flushed and grinning. "How about our deal zen, Draco?"

A flash of inspiration hit him. "Later. Meet me here in twenty minutes."

The Durmstrang scowled a little, grabbed his drinks and moved off to find Hermione. Draco watched him slip something into one of the drinks and grinned, now confident Viktor did _not_ harbour romantic feelings for the vile mudblood.

He made his way through the crowd and found Pansy, he grabbed her and pulled her in close so he could talk "Pansy find some-one else to dance with. Some arsehole's spiked my drink and I'm gonna be sick." He slurred his words a little and she looked at him in alarm

"Get going then! Don't you _dare _be sick on me!"

He hid a smirk as he walked off, once he was out of the Great Hall he practically ran down to the Concealed Room. Fuck being invisible. He would stand out. But not as anyone would know him.

Twenty minutes later, he greeted Krum at the drinks table. Well, greeted would perhaps be the wrong word to use. He snuck up behind him and slapped his hands over the Durmstrang's eyes, pulled him down closer to his mouth and whispered in his ear "I believe I have a deal to keep."

Viktor spun round and stared at him in bewilderment. Then he burst out laughing. "Dra-" Draco slapped a hand over his mouth

"Don't you dare," He snarled, "My name is Akkaris." Viktor raised an eyebrow, but grinned appraisingly. How the blond had managed such a drastic change in such a short amount of time he did not know. What he did know was that he like what he saw. Draco's once platinum blonde hair was instead black and much longer, he had heavy eye-liner on and dark red lips he was wearing a loose sleeveless studded top which came down low and tight leather trousers, and was now three inches taller thanks to some drastic creepers. His eyes were amber and he'd done something strange to the shape of his face. He looked nothing like the Draco he'd seen and everything like the Akkaris he wanted to know. "Are you drunk?"

"Is that a problem?"

"It is if I'm not." Draco handed him a bottle which said butterbeer and he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Take a sip," Draco encouraged, his eyes were wild and he leaned in slightly, excited. Viktor grinned at his cunningness – of course he would have hidden something inside a butterbeer bottle, and -_oh- _it was good and strong. That was a compliment, coming from a Russian, and he admired the audacity of bringing such potent firewhiskey into the Ball, so simply disguised. He took another swig

"Is that filthy mudblood gone?" Draco asked, eagerly

"Along with Potter and Weasley."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

They worked their way into the throng of screaming, dancing students and joined in, stamping their feet and head-banging as if they knew the songs. The band called for a break about an hour into their act, and recorded music streamed through hidden speakers and echoed around the room. It was good music, but not as atmospheric. "I'll go and get us more drinks, Dr-Akkaris," Viktor claimed boldly. They'd put the firewhikey down somewhere and lost it, but had had enough that it hardly mattered.

"In a bit then," Draco clapped an arm on his boyfriends and the quiditch star sauntered off. People began milling around a little and chatting, and Draco suddenly felt quite a few stares on him. But he didn't care, everything felt hazy, as if he were only in a dream and nothing really mattered to much. A boy he vaguely recognised wandered over to him, he was quite striking with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. "I don't recognise you," he said, putting a couple of fingers under Draco's chin and inspecting him. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Thomas Cherre, seventh year at Hogwarts. What about you? You can't be a Hogwarts student."

"Sure about that?"

"Trust me," the boy grinned suddenly, a spark in his eye, "I would have noticed _you._"

"I don't believe you." The boy frowned at him slightly, "You'll have to show me **why** you would have noticed me, before I believe you."

Thomas grinned triumphantly and swept down to kiss Draco, their lips met hot and wet- the boy was dragged back suddenly and Draco almost lost his balance. "Wha-"

"What the _fuck _are you doing!" Viktor shouted angrily. He turned to Thomas and grabbed a fistful of robe "Leave my boyfriend the hell alone you cunt!" Thomas just stared at him in dumb shock, and before he could gather a response Viktor grabbed Draco by the top of his arm and stormed out.

He shoved him into an empty classroom halfway down the hallway and pinned him against the wall, pressing his face up close. "Why. The Fuck. Did you just kiss that boy?" Viktor demanded, seething.

"G-get off me!" Draco gasped, struggling against his boyfriends hold. He felt so vulnerable, so breakable then, he would say anything to get him out of this position.

"WHY THE _FUCK_ DID YOU KISS THAT BOY?!" Viktor yelled again, shaking him, "I LEAVE YOU FOR ONE _FUCKING_ SECOND AND YOU TURN INTO SOMEBODY ELSE'S FILTHY _WHORE!_"

"No, no, Vik, please, I swear, I didn't, he kissed me, I didn't think he would, panicked, please, get – get off me!" He was truly terrified, not only was Viktor was drunk and angry, but he was a lot older, larger and stronger than Draco just then. "Please, I'm no-one else's, I don't want anyone else, just you, alright! Please!"

Viktor's nostrils were flared and Draco suddenly realised there was something odd about his eyes. Draco could see it, his pupils were seriously contracted and there was a line of silvery-blue skirting the outside.

_Shit, _he cursed.

Viktor was drugged. One of his drinks must have been spiked or something, the potion would have included ground Grappler Horn, which could cause the user/victim to become extremely violent. It was highly illegally, but taken sometimes before a duel, or fed to animals to make them fight each other for betting circles.

_How the hell am I going to escape this one? _He realised the only possible way he could get out of this without being severely beat up was to try and redirect the violence to lust. At least, he knew that's what his mother had resorted to many times in the past.

With no other ideas, Draco pushed into Viktor and kissed him, hard. Viktor froze, for a moment, before groaning and pushing him back against the wall, forcing his tongue inside Draco's mouth and crushing their lips together. He started to grind on Draco, who suddenly realised if he wasn't careful, things could go far further than they ever should for him now...

He ran his hands down Viktors torso, and then down to the bulge in his robe. Fingers shaking, he moved his hands back up, and tore off the buttons of the cape. It fell to the ground and to reveal a tight shirt which hugged tightly, showing of Viktors ripped upper body, and jeans with a very obvious bulge in the front.

_The only way to get out of this is to spend that cock, _Draco realised. But suddenly Viktor pushed against him again, thrusting and grinding, his lips worked their way onto Draco's throat and bit and sucked at that spot, then without warning he broke off and pushed Draco to the ground, straddled him and resumed his ministrations. Draco gasped and could feel his own manhood coming to a salute, he thrusted upwards against Viktor slightly, unable to control the feelings overcoming his body, the pleasure rippling down his spine. Viktor groaned and suddenly began grinding on him again, his hands suddenly found a purpose – he sat back on his heels and yanked Draco's trousers down, then grabbed his length and pulled slightly on it. Draco gasped, so sensitive to another hand compared to his own, and Viktor began moving his hand back and forth, not-so-gently stroking it till it was rigid and at an absolute salute. Draco was sure he would explode, he grasped onto Viktors shoulders, nails digging in, sure it was his only anchor to the world, he would explode as a firework in the sky...

And then Viktor's fingers found something far more interesting. Draco moaned and gasped as a finger began to make it's way inside, but somehow Draco managed to push and wriggle away. "_No-" _he choked out. Viktors eyes narrowed but before he could turn violent again Draco pulled down _his _trousers, and grabbed his wanton cock. But a hand was not enough for Viktor, in a haze of aggressive lust, and the Durmstrang grabbed Draco's head and pulled it towards his groin. Draco pulled back violently to avoid having his eye poked out, but quickly enveloped his mouth over the bulbous cock. He sucked earnestly and Viktor groaned, forcing his head further along till his dick suddenly touched the back of Draco's throat and he retched. Viktor let go and Draco pulled back a little, but kept sucking, and the Russian was making such wonderful noises that suddenly Draco realised with not enough warning that his mouth would be filled with the hot white seed. Viktor came and Draco withdrew, spitting the salty liquid out and trying to suppress a shudder. Viktor grinned down lazily at him, and then passed out.

Exhausted and with shaking hands, Draco pulled his trousers up slowly, buckling them up, and then doing the same to Viktors. His wand had fallen out of his pocket and he retrieved it from the corner of the room, using _scourgify_ to clean up the mess, and wishing he knew an odour eliminating smell, it engulfed him and was making him feel sick. "Levicorpus," he murmured, and Viktor floated alongside him, and then he disillusioned them both. Draco suddenly felt incredibly stupid in his costume, felt incredibly stupid for flirting with that bloody seventh year and letting him kiss him, stupid for what had just happened between him and Viktor, and stupid because he hated just how submissive he had became.

He had no idea where to take Viktor. He couldn't take him to the ship in case he woke up and was still violent – or lustful – and he couldn't take him to the dorms for the same reason.

He didn't particularly want to use the Concealed Room, but it was his only real option. He put Viktor on the other side of the room and took his wand off him. Draco sat the opposite side of the room, next to the door, with both wands.

He was still trembling, trying to push away everything that had happened that evening.

Instead he tried to concentrate on tomorrow, and the week proceeding it. Thankfully he'd already packed his bags, and he hoped Viktor would wake up as himself that morning, in time to get himself ready. Draco desperately needed a shower as well, though he changed his hair colour back, and changed his clothes back, leaving the creepers, top and leather trousers where he had found them, and pulling his proper dress robes back on. That was one reason the room was mercifully unknown to almost any others. Really, what would anyone do if they found Draco's fashion and drag closet?

He didn't dwell on it, he was worried enough about tomorrow. He and Viktor would be returning to Malfoy Manor, and Draco prayed his father would notice nothing. For hell would be merciful should Lucius Malfoy discover the truth about his son.

.

*****What? Draco in drag? He has a closet of weird fashion clothes with a load of drag? I dunno, I no longer write this story. Stay tuned to find out what happens in the 10 days Draco and Viktor spend at Malfoy Manor – prison or paradise, heaven or hell? Who knows! Please, please, please review! I'm only asking for thirty seconds to hear your thoughts, they are really really really appreciated. Thanks for reading!*****


	8. Chapter 8

***** Guys I am SOOOOO SSSOOORRRYYY that it's taken this long to update! My muse has been KILLING me, but this past month and a bit has been _insane_! Honestly I've been on an absolutely hectic rollercoaster, but at long last am finally exam-free, discernibly single (was seeing this girl for a while but it fell through) and almost sane (well, I say almost...) **

**I've been writing madly to try and get you an update, was going just do one long one on Sunday, but read your reviews and decided to upload this one now, then the next one when I've done it, which will be this Sunday at the latest. **

**Thank you so much to the wonderful Aryam150 and the my anonymous guest reviewers, you really made my day. Sorry this couldn't have come sooner, but it's your reviews that got me to update today rather than next week.**

**Here it is, I hope you like it!*****

"Draco?" A gruff voice spoke, waking him from a restless nights sleep. Draco opened one bleary eye and made some noise that he was awake. His joints were stiff and his neck hurt from sleeping on the cold floor in a draught. "I don't remember last night." The voice had no question, nor want of an answer. It was a command, and Draco realised that Viktor was sparing them both the shame of their actions, as well as the consequences.

"Neither do I." He agreed.

Little more was said that morning, they righted themselves and agreed to meet at noon in Snape's office, then parted ways. Draco was used to shoving unpleasant memories down, and did his best to not think of last night.

But a question bugged his brain, which he couldn't stop feeling so confused about. Thomas Cherre, that seventh year at the dance – he'd just about openly admitted to being gay, he'd tried to kiss Draco in front of everyone... was he not afraid of the consequences? Was he going to be punished? Draco was sure enough about his own disguise, nobody would have recognised him, but Thomas was certainly bare-faced, and it puzzled Draco as to why he had been so open.

After showering, fixing his hair, sending his Golden Eagle ***(A/N: Yes, all you toad-brained people who reckon Draco has an owl – you're wrong! He has a Golden Eagle. Rant over.)* **to Malfoy Manor, he passed the time playing gobstones with Blaise, until it was time to leave. He entered Severus' office with slight trepidation, but greeted his godfather as pleasantly as he could.

"Will I be seeing you before the holidays are over?"

"Perhaps," the man answered, stoically. Snape hated Christmas, and was very untalkative around such a time. "You shouldn't be late." Draco looked at his watch worriedly, he was waiting for Viktor. It would be the height of bad manners to leave without him, but if he didn't hurry up there would be trouble. Snape fixed him with an indecipherable stare, "You're close to Krum, aren't you Draco?" The questioned was laced with many suspicions and even more questions.

Draco glanced up at him, for a moment he thought his heart froze, "We... are acquaintances." He muttered, looking away again.

Snape narrowed his eyes. He knew when he was being lied to. "You had better remain cautious," He warned, and then sat forward suddenly, as if he remembered something which greatly angered him. "And that _stupid _stunt you pulled at the Yule Ball – _what were you thinking!?" _He hissed. Draco felt his face flush red, "Dressed up as if you were some **promiscuous** _muggle!_ I expected more of twelve year old Gryffindors than that!"

Draco felt like his face was on fire, he wanted nothing more than to disappear right there and then. "Did – do you think-"

Snape pursed his lips, angrily. "I doubt anyone else recognised you. But it was a foolish risk."

Draco bowed his head "I know," he muttered. "But you wont – you wont tell my father, will you?" He asked, worriedly.

Snape studied him, letting him sweat for a few moments to ensure he had properly learnt his lesson, hanging it above his head that it was possible his father would find out. "No." He answered, finally. Draco sighed in audible relief. "But know this. Such flaws and carnalities are to be kept behind your own private door, not flaunted to the public as if you were proud to be improper. If you deliberately make such a blunder again," He looked Draco directly in the eyes, "I _will _inform your father."

The younger Slytherin swallowed and nodded, lesson thoroughly learnt.

.

An hour and a half late, Viktor arrived, looking incredibly careless. "You're late," Draco snapped.

Viktor smirked a little, as if the thought amused him, "So I am, Draco Malvoy, is thees a problem?"

Muttering darkly under his breath about how he would give Krum a real problem quite soon, Draco took a handful of floo powder and beckoned the Durmstrang over to the fireplace. With a grateful nod to Severus, who was surveying Viktor through distrusting eyes, he shouted "Malfoy Manor" into the green fire, and Hogwarts dungeons span out of sight.

Landing in the fireplace at his home Draco noted his mother, Narcissa, was relaxing on the chaise with a book. She stood swiftly, embraced Draco and gave Viktor her hand. He kissed it, and Draco introduced the two. "Viktor," Narcissa smiled, "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, I'm glad you could make it. Lucius was rather concerned there would be a problem, I trust everything has been cleared?" Her speech was designed to show just who was the guest in this place, and that the Malfoy's were certainly aware of events.

"Quite," Viktor assured, but gave no explanation as to what this problem may have been, nor how it had been resolved. He didn't need to answer to Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco glanced at him, a modicum of worry lacing his brow. Did Viktor not quite grasp the politics of pure-blood conversation, or was he deliberately being obtuse?

Narcissa drew herself up to full height, and inclined her head. "Draco, dear, why don't you and Viktor unpack, his room is opposite yours." Her refusal to use Viktor's last name indicated both to his young age and her disdain to his family. The Krum's had fought hard against Grindlewald during the days he was coming to power, and few pure-blood families appreciated their hand in his downfall.

"Of course, mother. We'll be down for supper," Draco replied, and led the way up the staircase to his room. Being on the fourth floor, Draco fleetingly introduced him to rest of the second and third floor, before ascending the final set of stairs. Draco's home was impressive and he knew it, even Viktor couldn't withhold a grudging admiration for such grandeur. There was an extensive Library, Ballroom, Billiard Room, fully equipped Sparring chamber with an adjacent Dojo and, of course, Duelling antechamber laden with heavy protection, to name but a few features. "That's my father's study. Don't go in there – I'm pretty sure there's a disembowelling curse somewhere, and it's riddled with alarms and security spells." Draco warned his Russian friend, feeling more than a little smug about their advanced security systems.

They finally made their way up to the top floor, where there was a corridor with two doors facing opposite each other, and a large window at the end. The view was incredible, looking out over the Malfoy estate and rolling hills and woodland beyond. They both paused in admiration, Draco smiling slightly at the familiar, unchanging view of countryside he knew as well as the back of his own hand.

"This is your room," he said, indicating to the door on the left, "And this one's mine. There's an en suite inside, tell me if you need anything." He was still thoroughly annoyed at Viktor for being late, and the Durmstrang could know it.

"So I shan't be sharing your room, Draco?" Viktor purred, stepping closer, chest-to-chest with the younger boy. His voice sent shivers down Draco's spine, he could smell the leather-and-woodsmoke scent of Viktor, mahogany-brown eyes boring into his own.

"No." He replied, curtly, trying to keep his cool in an inferno of emotions. "Get- just-" He took a step back, "I'll see you later," He snapped, stepping into his room and snapping the door behind him. He leant against it, trying to slow his heart-rate down. What that man did to him was outrageous.

Draco cast his gaze around the bedroom and smiled slightly. It was nice to be back home, to have his own space and luxuries. He began unpacking his trunk, placing everything back in a neat, methodical order as he had done so since starting Hogwarts. Draco rarely permitted house elves in his bedroom, alongside anyone else. It was _his_ space, _his_ sanctuary. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that Viktor would make himself exempt from that rule – whether Draco liked it or not – but he pushed it away.

Half an hour later there was a soft knock on the door. "Who is it?" He called, unsurprised to hear a familiar chuckle in response. "What do you want?" He snapped, still annoyed at the Russian. The door swung open and Viktor sauntered in, a lopsided grin tugging at the contours of his lips.

"Vhat do you haff to offer?" He teased.

"Viktor-" Draco groaned, fighting off an amused smirk

" - Relax, Draco, no-von is up 'ere," the Durmstrang commanded, placing his broad hands on Draco's shoulders. He traced his thumb along the edge of the young aristocrats jawline, then lent his forehead against the other. He closed his eyes, a sad look passing over his face. "I 'ave done wrong by you, Draco." He said, quietly. "You 'ave more patience than I credit you for. I – last night -"

"-Don't -"

"- I was _wrong, _Draco. I do not know vhat happened to me, I -" He opened his eyes, anguished. Draco felt taken aback by the display of emotion, he'd always thought of his inamorato as quite callous about their feelings.

"You were drugged, Viktor." He said, quietly. "Someone spiked your drink – it's not your fault."

The Russian blinked in surprise and stepped back, studying Draco's face closely. "You're sure?" Draco nodded, feeling a little surprised himself about his honesty. He could have held that information to himself, gotten more things from Viktor as payment, held it over his head in some way to extract a favour when he needed one. But instead, he just wanted to put the young man out of his misery. It was certainly an odd feeling. "Thank you," Viktor murmured, "And I -" He took a deep breath in, "I'm sorry. I wronged you. I usually treat my suitors better." A wry smile crept onto his face, "You are not my usual, though, Draco Malvoy. You are… different, somehow. Intriguing."

"I should hope so," he intoned, smirking. "How... do you, uh... have you had many suitors?" The Slytherin asked, feeling his colour rise in his cheeks.

Viktor chuckled deeply, "A few. I have many admirers, but I only choose the best." Draco inclined his head, apprehensive of such an obscure answer but appreciative of the flattery, if not a modicum embarrassed. "And you?" He asked, a slight tightness behind his eyes.

"No," Draco admitted, looking down, "Not really. I mean, you know about Pansy, but that's quite a different matter."

"So, I am to be your first, Draco?" Viktor asked, suggestively.

"My... my first? First what?" The Bulgarian Quiditch star snickered infuriatingly, but said no more. They talked a while more, before a tentative knock on the door by a house elf alerted them it was half an hour till supper.

"We'd best freshen up," Draco commented, "I can't believe I'm still in these school robes. I blame you." He pouted but Viktor just rolled his eyes, he knew the blond was in an exceedingly good mood to act so childishly. He went back into his own room and changed to more formal attire.

Dinner was a quiet affair after all, Lucius taking well to Viktor, despite the Russians' concealed anger at how the man treated his son. They talked casually about the Yule Ball, Durmstrang and other rather trivial matters. The Malfoy Ball was to be held the next evening on the 23rd, but there would be a few visitors passing by that evening, with a couple of guests staying the night. Both were welcome to stay, but Draco caught the hint that he would want to be gone by ten from his mothers warning gaze, and obscure comments about those who were arriving later.

As the house elves cleared away the dinner they waited in the Greeting Room, making light conversation and sipping expensive wine. Lucius was particularly interested in how Durmstrang operated as to their approach to the Dark Arts, but Viktor's answers were elusive at best.

The Parkinson's were the first to arrive, shortly after eight. They apologised that Pansy wasn't there, saying she was unwell. "Yes, Draco mentioned it to us," Lucius drawled, "It's a pity." He didn't look very sorry, however. A couple more joined them, but many people were merely visiting for a few hours. As the time crept on, Draco noticed the more respectable visitors leaving, and former Death Eaters he vaguely recognised from the Quiditch World Cup appearing in increasing numbers. At quarter to ten he and Viktor excused themselves, making their way up to the bedrooms.

Draco turned to close his bedroom door, only to find Viktor leaning against the frame with a devious grin playing at the edges of his lips. He sighed, trying to look disdainful but feeling an edge of excitement creeping into his psyche. "What do you want?" He asked.

Viktor stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. "You."

Draco shut his eyes, feeling desire and frustration crash over him at once. "Viktor, look, we can't be this reckless, if – if my father _ ever _found out..." He couldn't finish the sentence, the very thought of the man unearthing the true nature of their relationship was to dastardly to conceive of.

"He won't," Viktor assured, "He is pre-occupied, and we shall hear him if he comes up the stairs. Relax, Draco." He placed his hands on the Arian's hips and swung him round, slamming him into the door and taking him by surprise. "Now," He growled, "What was I doing here?" He captured Draco's lips with his own, kissing the boy with heavy passion. Draco groaned, leaning into him, tongue's warring and hands roaming...

Draco suddenly pushed Viktor back; caught off guard the Durmstrang fell onto his back in shock, Draco leapt over him to the other side of the room, pulling his wand out and pointing it at his beau just as the bedroom door swung open, revealing Lucius Malfoy.

"_What_ is going on here?"

"We – we were-" Draco stammered

Lucius cast his scrutinising gaze over his son, noting the messed hair and rumpled clothing. _"Fighting, _Draco?" His father drawled. Draco nodded, his heart racing. "Really, I should have thought you had better manners than that." He turned to Viktor, "Mister Krum, could I kindly remind you that you are staying under _our _roof at this moment in time, and I do not tolerate assaults to my family easily. Are we quite understood?" There was a touch of amusement in his voice, but his eyes glinted dangerously.

Viktor laughed, standing up, "I do no think so, Meester Malvoy. Me and your son vere not _fighting_." Draco's heart plummeted, his blood went icy cold.

"_Oh?"_

"We were duelling,"He claimed, easily.

Lucius' eyes flickered to Draco and back suspiciously, he raised one eyebrow. "Is that so?" Draco nodded, holding his breath.

"Draco ees advanced beyond hees age, you must be proud."

Lucius pursed his lips, sceptical. "Indeed." He said, his words clipped. "There is a Duelling chamber on the third floor, you may use it as you wish, providing you _confine_ such activities to it."

"Yes, father."

"Ensure you do." He snapped, before turning to Viktor. "Lord Marden has arrived, he has requested your presence."

"I'll meet him in ten minutes," Viktor replied. Lucius narrowed his eyes at the audacity to keep _Marden _waiting, but said no more, and returned downstairs.

Silence fell. "Dra-"

"Get out."

"I didn't-"

I said _get out!_"

They locked eyes.

"Just leave, Viktor," Draco sighed, dejectedly, "Just _leave."_

_*******_**Aww. As I said, I'll be writing with fervour this week and bring you an update Sunday latest. Once again, many apologies for the delay, much gratitude for your wonderful reviews and many hopes to hear your opinions on this chapter or the story so far (or any queries, if you have them too). Till next time!*****


	9. Chapter 9

*****This is not fair. Seriously. I wanted to do a short chapter to post up on Sunday, about 1500 words long. But my story refused – she just wouldn't let me stop! Oh well, I'm renaming Tuesday, Sunday. It's now over 3k words long, and my free will has been sacrificed to the whims of my muse and characters. I hope you like it! Please fave, follow or review, it's really appreciated. If you have any questions then feel free to ask, these characters _do _talk a little cryptically at times. Thanks :) *****

The next day was concerned solely with the task of preparing for the Ball, Draco was put in charge of the lesser responsibilities that couldn't be delegated to a house-elf, such as welcoming the pianist and minstrels, and showing them where to set up. He did not see Viktor until four o'clock, when he finally retired to his room to prepare himself. He ascended the stairs and looked up to see a silhouetted figure by the window. He immediately thought it to be Viktor, but quickly corrected himself. Viktor was not as tall, nor had such narrow shoulders, and his posture was far different. But who it was, he didn't know. For a moment, the two just stood there, in silence.

"The allegiance of the Krum family has fell into much dispute, repeatedly over history," The figure spoke. His voice was old and wispy, his words were those of power – and of expectancy. "It will fall upon the eldest son of the last generation to decide upon it again in the coming years. Last time they made an unfavourable decision. This time, their allegiances will be far more important, and thus far more crucial that the _right_ decision is made." The man began walking forwards, but his face was still in shadow. That mattered not; whom this stranger was was no mystery to Draco. "You know the allegiance of your own family."

"I do."

"And you stand by that."

"Irrefutably."

There was a greater pause this time. "You have some sway over Viktor."

Draco looked at him uncertainly, worried. "I... am unsure what you mean."

"You have the power to influence him. Power unused is power wasted, neglected. Do not neglect that power. We both have the same goals. We both want the the Krum family to be properly aligned. You understand the growing importance of this. And you have a unique influence over him that would be beneficial to employ."

"I... _influence?_ I will try my best to persuade him," Draco said, quickly, remembering who he was talking to, "But we largely are inconsequential to one another."

Marden had come forwards a little farther, and Draco could see a slight smirk across the lords face, he chuckled darkly. "I hardly believe that-" He put a hand up to Draco's protests, "I am sure he has told you about the attitudes of our culture, Draco Malfoy?" Marden asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco couldn't believe how easily their relationship had been deduced. "Yes," He admitted, grudgingly.

"And I understand the sensitivities of yours." A calculative expression came onto the powerful man's face, "In the interest of keeping such sensitivities abated, you should consider bringing Viktor in line with our values. Do you understand, child?"

Draco swallowed, trying to keep his face impassive. "I do."

Marden smiled triumphantly and nodded his head. "Then I shall see you at the ball, Mister Malfoy."

"Until then."

Marden inclined his head, and returned downstairs. Draco groaned. Politics, secrets, blackmail... _welcome home_.

.*.*.*.

He knocked on Viktor's door and was beckoned in. Viktor was sitting at the desk, folding a letter into an unaddressed envelope. Draco was curious as to who it was to, but held his tongue on the issue. "What did Marden want last night?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"What he can never get," Viktor replied, dismissively. Draco stood there though, waiting for a better answer. "He offered me a deal, and I declined." The quiditch star huffed, "Run along, don't you have some blue-blooded arses to lick or something?" Draco gaped at him, shocked. "Go uphold your sensitive dignitaries, I have no time for you, Malfoy."

"Viktor! What the hell is-"

"Fuck off, Draco." The Russian cut in, viscously, turning round to the blond. "Stay away from me, go and fornicate with one of your cousins or something instead."

Spluttering and indignant, Draco backed out of the room. _What the hell was that about? _he wondered. Had he overheard him and Marden talking? Although it seemed the most obvious reason, was unlikely, as the aristocrat would have put up a privacy charm that would be hard to break. Marden wanted Draco's influence over him, and so it was unlikely he would do anything to sour their relationship at this point in time. Was Viktor angry from last night? That seemed preposterous, but Draco could think of no better explanation.

He felt a little hollow, silence was ringing in his ears. Viktors words kept repeating themselves in his head, so crude that they shouldn't hurt. They shouldn't hurt, but he and Viktor shouldn't be together, and nevertheless they were. Or, perhaps, had been. _Snap out of it! _Draco shook himself mentally.

Krum had no right treating him in this manner, he was seriously out of line. And Draco didn't need to put up with his shit any longer, Slytherin's were _not _known for their loyalty, and he didn't need to show the Russian any. _I am gaining no advantage out of this relationship_, the young aristocrat decided, _I have no need for it._ But try as he might, Draco couldn't fully convince himself of such a notion.

Pushing it away, he focused on getting himself ready for the Malfoy Ball. At seven thirty he entered the Ballroom and met with his mother and father, both of whom were in the finest dress robes money could buy, naturally. "A word, Draco," his father said, tightly, taking him to one side. "I have heard it you were less than regal at the Hogwarts Yule Ball, do not disappoint me tonight, unless you want to face very - severe - consequences." He bit the last three words out with constrained malignance, his clear blue eyes piercing into Draco's own.

"I... The Yule Ball?"

"Your dance was atrocious, that wench Pansy almost led you, and then you leave the moment you can slip away. I am unimpressed, do not let me down again."

"Of course not, father. I'm sorry," Draco apologised, trying not to wince as nails dug into his shoulder. His father stared into his eyes a moment longer, before releasing him.

Guests began arriving, and within the hour the Ballroom was filled with powerful, high-calibre people; aristocrats, politicians, duke's and lords, lady's and, from what Draco could tell, a few courtesan's.

Standing upon the balcony, his father called for everyone's attention. He gave a rather magniloquent speech Draco pretended to be interested in and clapped afterwards, whence Lucius ordered the Dance to commence. The orchestra stuck up, Lucius apparated in front of his wife and they began the dance. Many couples soon joined in, when Draco realised he was without a dance partner. His eyes swept the hall for someone suitable, when they landed on Daphne Greengrass, one of his classmates. He swept over to her and bowed slightly. "Care to dance?" She smiled slightly and allowed him to take her hand. They danced easily, making light conversation about the holiday and the Yule Ball. "I couldn't believe it when I saw my sister there," She remarked, "She's only in second year, but somehow managed to pass as someone's date."

"_Really?_" He asked, feigning interest.

"Yeah, you know Anthony Goldstein?"

"Vaguely."

"I think it was his sister."

"His _sister_?" Draco exclaimed, quietly, feeling rather shocked.

"Yes, mother was infuriated, doubtless to say. She's in quite a bit of trouble."

"Isn't she accounted for yet?"

"She wasn't going to be, as I'm already spoken for, but we're looking into it. Actually, me, her and father have had a rather cunning idea." She told him, her voice dropping to avoid being overheard. "We're thinking of trying to have her 'bear a beard', so to speak."

"Bear a beard?"

"Have her marry a gay man. It's a great cover-up, and mutually beneficial as both can bring people back to the house without fear of the other being disruptive."

Draco wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Ah... well, best of luck." He said, stepping apart as the music ended. "If you'll excuse me." He kissed her knuckles, and she smiled at him, tightly. There was the flicker of annoyance and frustration behind her eyes, though she tried to hide it. Daphne had always been surprisingly open as a Slytherin, but surely she was crossing some boundary? Her sister's persuasion was likely to be a dark family secret, why on earth had she told it to him?

He danced with a few more people from around his own age, none of them particularly interesting. Draco noted Amos Diggory talking to his father, who looked rather concerned but was nodding. He called over to someone, whom Draco recognised as one of the considerably younger courtesan's. In fact, she only looked about seventeen. Not wanting to observe the next scenes, Draco guided his dance partner further away from them.

As the dance ended and he stepped away from the girl, however, he was shocked to find the offer of a dance from the very same woman his father had just been talking to. He hesitated at her offer, naturally, his eyes darting around for some clue as to why _she _had approached _him_. "Ah, Draco." A hand clapped onto his shoulder from behind and he stiffened, recognising the voice of his father instantly. "This is Neaira. I trust you two will engage with each other for longer than one dance." Draco looked up at his father, feeling shocked and bewildered. Lucius raised one eyebrow. "I trust that this is not a problem, Draco?" He hissed, staring at his son dangerously. This was some kind of trial, "No." Draco replied, quickly, "No, not at all."

The two of them danced, but Draco felt rather awkward. Everyone had been growing steadily more intoxicated, and Neaira was dancing in a way that her body rubbed against his in unsettling ways. She gave him a provocative smile, tossing her hair a couple of times and swaying her hips more than she needed to. She had a thin waist but was voluptuous, and knew exactly how to move in a way that teased without looking overtly promiscuous. Draco swallowed a few times as she pressed her hip to his, meeting his gaze with a flirty smile, holding him there a moment, then spinning out.

Draco did not desire her for any kind of romantic involvement, he knew that much, but hell he was a teenage guy and she was a professional lady of night. _Why _his father had set him up with a harlot, he could only shudder to think, and on that note he remembered last night, when he and Viktor had almost been caught kissing, and then his despicable words to him that afternoon, and suddenly found himself liking this Neaira a whole lot more.

At the end of the third dance, she stepped a little closer, her breath tickling his ear. "Come away with me tonight, Draco, I'll show you a dance you've never seen before." Draco froze, his palms prickling as she stayed there, her offer hanging for him to take.

"N-no," He refused, in a hushed and shocked voice. "I – I'm sorry, I can't, that's just... I'm already spoken for and it... it would be inappropriate."

She narrowed her eyes, visibly annoyed. "Listen," she hissed, "You're father's received a tip that you need to be... _put straight_. He's offered me a considerable sum to ensure you're swayed by the female flesh. I really don't give a damn, but if you don't come with me now, I'm gonna get sod all and by the looks of it he's gonna beat the crap out of you till your begging for Hades open arms. So follow me and stare lustfully at my arse, for Circe's sake."

Draco felt a little stunned, but part of him was entirely unsurprised at his father's actions. He obediently followed her, realising she would probably consider it easy pay if she didn't actually have to do anything that night. He was admiring a good plan (and, okay, a brilliant arse), when a large hand grabbed his upper arm, spinning him around. "Vhere are you going?" Viktor asked, frowning.

"None of your business, Krum," Draco sneered. He felt rather cocky, knowing how jealous Viktor could be, and tasting a sweet bit of revenge on the tip of his tongue. Neaira draped her arms over Draco's neck, looking at him flirtatiously for a second before turning to Viktor. "Is there something you want?" She challenged him.

He narrowed his eyes, nostrils flared. "Yeah," he said, "I see your taken," Utter contempt filled his voice at this, "But I'm sure there's a few of your lot spare. Call someone over for me."

Draco flushed an angry red, he couldn't _believe _Viktor had trounced him so thoroughly. Neaira raised an eyebrow, though she wasn't unaccustomed to these scenes. As she left, Viktor grabbed Draco by the elbow and tugged him to the edge of the Ballroom, invading the boys' personal space and displaying his control. "Viktor, get _off_ me," Draco spat, lurching against his inamorato's iron grip.

"Don't you _dare _go with her," Viktor growled.

"Or what?"

"You make it sound like you have a choice." They were talking in Russian as usual, but gaining some odd looks. Draco stepped back, trying to recompose himself.

"You didn't seem to give a damn this afternoon, did you?" Draco challenged. "What? You think you can just walk all over me because you're Viktor Krum? Well I'm a Malfoy, and you'd better get to grips with that, because I'm not taking any of this _shit _any more."

Viktor stared at him, stunned. "Come with me." He said, lowly.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. I'm not leaving the ball unless it's with Neaira." Fury flashed across the Durmstrang's face. "Listen! My father's getting suspicious about me and apparently someone tipped him off. I'm just heading him off."

"Anything to appease that man," Viktor muttered under his breath, looking disgusted. Neaira came back with another extraordinarily pretty woman named Archianassa, who was clearly delighted at having such famous and handsome clientèle this evening. "We do not require your services this evening, I'm afraid." He told them, stoically. The two glanced at each other, looking a little angry. "_Go._"

They left, Viktor shaking with concealed fury and Draco glancing round the room nervously. "_Viktor_," He moaned, "God dammit I'm going to be killed. Oh no. Oh dear Circe they're going to my father." He almost whimpered. "You've ruined me now."

Viktor frowned at him, "Vhat do you mean?"

"Didn't you just hear me? Someone's tipped him off about me, that was a test, he set me up, I think he wanted to... oh Merlin save me..." Lucius was navigating the Ballroom floor to get to them, who were standing on the outskirts on the other side. Draco was in half a mind to just run for it, but his father had already seen him watching him, there was really no way out. "Look, don't you dare say anything, alright? I mean it, not a word, don't interrupt. You'll only make things worse. You've gotta promise not to make a big deal out of, please. And don't come for me tonight, wait until tomorrow, I'll see you first, don't, y'know, check up or -" He was babbling, but immediately cut off as his father came into earshot. Draco was almost trembling.

"Son, a word." Lucius instructed, seeming remarkably calm for Draco's anxiety. But he was a Slytherin and a Malfoy, and they could choose and wear any expression as easily as fine robes.

Draco followed his father nervously down a flight of stairs and into an antechamber. The door shut behind him and Lucius turned around to face him, a look of utter contempt spread across his features. "Do you believe me to be obtuse, Draco?"

"No father." He replied, averting his eyes. Eye-contact was never a good thing to his fathers temper.

"Are you so dense yourself that you cannot understand me?"

"I... I thought you only wanted us to engage in a few dances, father, I don't-"

Lucius struck him across the face and Draco stumbled back, gasping. He put his hand up to the stinging pain, and felt the wet of his blood. "Don't _lie _to me, Draco," His father snarled, "I thought you would have learnt some respect by now!" Draco kept his head down, trying to quell his fury, the last thing he wanted was for his enraged father to see _that._

"Sorry, father." He bit out.

Lucius narrowed his pale blue eyes, "Why did you refuse the girl?" He demanded.

"I – I thought you were testing me," Draco pleaded, thinking fast, "I thought you wanted to make sure I was going to be loyal and not put my courtship with Pansy in danger, or was going to make a fool of myself because of some harlot or something!"

Lucius glared at him suspiciously, unconvinced. "Amos Diggory was telling me that his son suspected you of _untoward affections,_** - is – this – true?"**

"No, no father!" Draco swallowed, "That's disgusting." His heart was hammering, though, and he could feel beads of sweat pricking at his forehead. "And anyway, I've heard a lot of people saying they thought Cedric is a bit of a Nancy, he's probably just reacting to that, trying to cover it up, he might have heard my opinion on it – you know I think it's disgusting – and this is just his retaliation."

"You had better make sure your words are true," The elder Malfoy snarled, "And I thought I had given you the simple task of gaining that boy's alliance, how incompetent _are _you?!"

"Sorry father, I tried, I really-"

"_Trying _is not enough!" Lucius barked.

"I'm sorry!"

"You will be!" There was a flash and Draco was knocked back again, he screamed in pain as a jolt of power tore through his body, his back arched and he fell to the floor and cracked his head against it, noticing nothing but the searing pain extending through every nerve. It tore up his spine like an inferno of cold electricity, he saw nothing but the white light of pain. It slowly abated till he was conscious of being in a crumpled heap on the ground, sobbing and sore. "I expect more from you next time, Draco. You have let me down yet again. You are nothing but a disappointment." With that, Lucius Malfoy strode out of the room, dismantling the silencing charms he'd erected.

The moment his footsteps were out of earshot, Draco felt a pair of strong arms around him, pulling him up and into an embrace, a hand stroked his hair, comforting him. Draco knew those arms, and he knew that scent, he leaned into them, surrendering any restraint for the favour of the comfort the boy gave to him.

Viktor held his boyfriend, allowing him to cry into his robes and take comfort in his presence, knowing how few a time there had been where someone was there for him. He was trembling with constrained anger to go after Lucius and acquaint the man very well with his fists and heavy boots, but Draco needed him now. And doing that might vent his anger, but he knew it would only make Draco's life harder. _One day... one day I'll pay him back for ever laying a finger on my lover, _Viktor swore. But that would have to wait.

And Viktor could wait as long as it took.

_One day._

*****Aw, poor Draco. What did you think? Cookie for your thoughts? (I've no idea what a cookie is supposed to be short of a yummy snack I eat too many of, so that's a null statement). Viktor was going to knock Lucius out, but Draco pointed out that that would make life a hell of a lot harder and threw a strop, so Viktor decided he would just have to delay his viscous temper for another time.**

**As always, my OC's names are not random things I picked of a name generator, they are the names of some of the most famous ancient greek prostitutes. Quite fascinating, to research, actually. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, tell me if you did, and if you didn't please please let me know why. Questions and suggestions are also welcomed. Thanks for reading, hang in their, next update coming soon!*****

**-HaRo**


	10. Chapter 10

***** Just a short one this week, a filler that became fluffy and a little smutty (warning for that but it isn't _too _graphic, if you ask me). I have to say, this story has gone on longer than I expected it too, but I think I must say that the end is coming into sight. This chapter was written in one sitting, so I apologise for any mistakes. I hope you like it, your opinion is much appreciated. Enjoy :) *****

Viktor was leaving in the evening on the 24th to visit his mother for Christmas, but would return on the 27th.

Throughout Christmas Day Draco felt the odd pang of missing his beau, but nevertheless it was an enjoyable day. His father was in a good mood, one could swear an entirely different man from two evenings before, and his mother was her usual good and gracious self, less austere as it was only the three of them, with no guests to impress. Gifts were lavish, as to be expected, and the Christmas Dinner was sumptuous. They went for a walk in the grounds, crisp snow crunching underfoot, and then played parlour games in the evening. As the day drew to a close, Draco had the odd feeling to count his blessings, for he didn't know when another such wonderful day would be granted to him again...

.

Viktor returned the same day Lucius returned to work, and Narcissa was out of the country for four days to visit relatives in France, but would be back for New Years Eve. She had wanted Draco to accompany her, but he persuaded her to let him stay home as Viktor had to come back on the 27th of December as there were no portkey's between Russia and England until the 30th of January, which would be to late for the school term, and it would be rude to leave him alone in the Manor.

Alone, the two found themselves in the second parlour, which was an odd room for Malfoy Manor. It had a small scrubbed wooden table with two chairs and an old sunken sofa, with a flagstone floor and a bookshelf holding battered storybooks. But it being a small room with a large fireplace made it warm and cosy for the frost-bitten winter days. And after Draco had a soft rug moved from a disused room to in front of the fireplace, it was wholly delightful.

"What was your problem the afternoon before the ball?" Draco inquired, deciding he might as well be up-front.

Viktor sighed and grimaced slightly. "It wasn't your fault, Draco, you had done nothing wrong."

"Go on."

"It was impressed upon me not to be seen near you now, even as friends, for something to do with the Second Task. It came from your father so I guess it was for your own safety rather than mine." A dark look passed over his face in memory of Lucius' deeds after the Ball, but said nothing on it. "I wanted you away. I was..." His gruff voice didn't finish the sentence.

"You still don't know the clue for the Second Task, do you?" Draco asked, shrewdly, and Viktor shook his head, annoyed. "Has it got something to do with the egg?"

"Yes, though all there is is screaming." He replied, looking rather put out and sullen at the fact he couldn't make sense of it.

"Can I have a look?" Viktor summoned it from his bedroom, and broke it open. Inevitably, a horrible wailing noise filled the air and Draco signalled him to close the egg again, which he did without hesitation. "They're speaking in tongues, I would say."

"Tongues?"

"It's got something to do with another animal that can make that sound. So it must be humanoid, it's not a sphinx, vampire, were-wolf or centaur... I can't see why it would be a banshee, but it is screaming, open it again." Viktor didn't usually take commands, but watching his inamorato figure this out was somewhat intriguing, so he opened the egg again breifly. "No, no it isn't a banshee. Let me think..."

They lapsed into silence, and Viktor threw on a bundle of herbs to the fire, which crackled and fumigated the room with a wonderful heady scent. He sat back down, pulling Draco's head into his lap and stroking his hair absent-mindedly. Their relationship seemed so volatile, so unpredictable, but he was beginning to feel an unshakable core, an unbreakable thread between them and within them which bound them together. He had never let anyone closer, no-one had understood him so well before, and never had he gotten to know someone else in the same way. Conversation was natural, he hardly spoke to anyone else, with them it felt forced and boring, but with Draco it was comfortable, even intriguing. Maybe they would go their separate ways when he left at the end of the year – a time he was vivaciously ignoring – but deep down in his heart he wished they would at least meet up again, perhaps Draco would throw off the shackles of his culture and join him, even. It was unlikely, but perhaps. Perhaps.

"It's mer-people."

"What?"

"The voice, it belongs to the mer-people, they live in the Black Lake. You can hear what they're saying underwater."

"Underwater?"

"I suppose if you take a bath and open the egg there, you can put your head underwater as well. Do you want to try that now?"

A glint came into his eyes and he agreed, Draco showing him to the largest bathroom in the house, the bath would fit five people in comfortably and had twelve taps for different types of the finest water available.

"I'll be in the parlour" Draco told Viktor, and left. He de-robed and ran the waters till the filled the tub, and the room could hardly be seen for the hot steam. The bath was beautiful, sunken into the floor with steps leading into the waters which, although seemed to be made out of marble, felt unerringly soft, one could lie against them comfortably. Viktor immersed himself and opened the egg, listening to the haunting riddle but not bothering to decipher it. This was too good an opportunity to miss. He closed the egg and placed it to the side, then slung a towel around his waist and strode out to find his beau.

Draco looked up from the book he was reading and flushed a little pink at the sight of his steaming lover. Viktor's skin was glistening with water droplets, his muscular body hardly concealed by the towel, and the sight went straight to his groin. "I am useless at riddles, Draco, come and help me." Viktor commanded, taking Draco's pale hand in his own and pulling him along to the bathroom. The Slytherin spluttered a few weak protests but was inarticulate of any pretence of reluctance.

Viktor closed the door behind them and put his hands on Draco's shoulders, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. It wasn't controlling, it wasn't cynical, it wasn't malicious. It was happy. How odd.

His hands made their way to Draco's collar, and he slowly unbuttoned the robe. Draco trembled slightly, but they kept eye-contact and he drew strength from that. Slowly Draco's robe dropped to the floor, the undergarment tee-shirt and then slowly his boxers, till Draco stood in front of his lover in full glory. The steam and flickering low light of candles somewhat obscured their vision, casting long shadows to soften his disquiet nerves. Viktor led him down the steps of the sunken bathtub and the immersed themselves in the hot water. Viktor wrapped his arms around Draco's soft, pale waist, pulling him closer, melding them together. Draco wound his arms around his swain's neck and their lips met, hot and wet, Viktor pressed against him softly, and then his tongue slipped inside and Draco caressed it with his own as they slowly backed down to the steps, till Viktor lay his pale beauty down upon them.

His kisses made their way down Draco's neck and down his sculpted chest, wet kisses entailing soft bites, and then his tongue trailed a path down his navel, and then his hot mouth enveloped the Malfoy's phallus, eliciting a shaking but aroused gasp and reducing the boy to a puddle of purple emotion. He sucked gently, then harder, loving to hear the boy's panting breath; he was so sensitive, having never experienced such attention before.

He withdrew, kissing again each scar which littered the young Slytherin's torso and then his mouth again, while his fingers began caressing Draco's entrance, one slowly pushing into it. There was a sharp intake of breath and everything stopped in Draco, he had been shuddering and quivering from the passions coursing through him, but now he froze. This territory was somewhat more unknown, stranger, frightening. Viktor sensed this and stopped. He withdrew and instead placed his hands above Draco's head, so he was hovering above him. He looked into Draco's eyes and he... smiled.

And it was genuine. It was unafraid, it was kind. And with that smile, Draco knew surely his heart was pledged to one and only one. A feeling, an emotion, enveloped the two of them, love coursing through their veins, almost tangible as their spirits reached out for one another, entwining...

***** Please review before you close the page*****


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